


for love divine and sunny hours

by trashsenal



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, M/M, also im not even a cule what am i doing here, i wrote a good half of the first ch on a flight at like 1am, literally no one asked for this but here i am, this is titled terfinha fc in my google docs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10509915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashsenal/pseuds/trashsenal
Summary: There is a language, ‘little known,’Lovers claim it as their own.Its symbols smile upon the land,Wrought by nature’s wondrous hand;And in their silent beauty speakOf  life and joy, to those who seekFor love divine and sunny hoursIn the language of the flowers.—"ORThe one where Marc André is a florist and Rafinha has a severe allergy to everything that blooms.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm lily and i am NOT a cule

It all happens when Neymar drags him into a flower shop in search of flowers for God-knows-who. Rafa’s nose begins itching and his eyes watering before they’re even in the door of the place; anything that blooms, lives, triggers the terrible allergies that make his life a living hell during the spring. It’s summer, though. He shouldn’t have to live like this, but, alas, is the life of a good friend. He sneezes, coughs, wheezes three times in a row. _Three._ His friend raises an eyebrow.

 

“Bless you?” Neymar laughs. “You good, Rafa?”

 

He sniffles, shooting the other boy a dirty look. “Do I _look_ okay to you?”

 

Ney makes a face. “Ooh, come to think, you _sound_ like a Disney character.” He inspects a lovely bouquet of red roses, picking them up gingerly. He then shoves them in Rafa’s face. “These are pretty.”

 

“I am _aller_ \--!” He doesn't even get to finish his sentence before sneezing again. His friend laughs again.

 

“Why am I like this?” Rafa mutters, following Neymar deeper into the shop. “Why did God make me like this?”

 

Neymar shrugs, stopping to look at an orchid. “Don’t ask me. What do you suppose I get?”

 

“What for? More importantly,” cue a sniffle, “Who for?”

 

Rafa knits his brow when his friend blushes a dark pink. Neymar pulls. A lot. Girls, guys, anyone. He just had this charm to him that made him hard to resist. But was he an old school romantic? Hell no. That was why Rafa was skeptic when he somehow convinced him to help him pick out some flowers.

 

“Not important,” He dismisses him with an eye roll. “Anyways, help.”

 

“I don’t like flowers.”

 

“You’re useless.”

 

Neymar makes his way to the help desk with Rafa in tow. It was a rather small shop and a couple other customers were mulling around, making it seem smaller, but they’d yet to see an employee. They wait for what seems too long, but that was probably because each agonizing second around so much pollen felt like a year for Rafa. Finally, though, help comes.

 

The man looks unlikely to be a florist. He’s tall, blonde, handsome. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, lithe limbs. Rafa thinks this guy looks like he belongs modeling some Hugo Boss rather than working in a flower shop. He swallows heavily when he approaches them.

 

“Hi, do you need any help?”

 

His voice is deep and velvety. Rafa zones out when Neymar explains what he needs because he’s too busy trying to place that accent. It’s not Spanish, no. He doesn't look Spanish, either. Whatever it is, it’s lovely.

 

Rafa resorts again to following his friend as the handsome florist leads them to the very back of the shop. He stands awkwardly, not really sure what to do with himself, as the blonde boy talks to his friend about flowers and what they symbolize.

 

“What’s the occasion?” He asks.

 

“Um, a friend.” Neymar answers quickly. “Nothing special.”

 

Rafa wants to jump in and question that, but he’s scared he’ll have another sneezing fit if he opens his mouth to speak. The florist’s name tag reads Marc-André. He tries not to be creepy while peeping at it.

 

“Yellow roses are a good flower for friends.” Marc-André explains. “If that’s what you’re going for, you can buy a bouquet. They’re the most-- hey, is your friend alright?”

 

As the “friend” in question, Rafa nods sheepishly. Does he really look that bad? Shit.

 

“Nah, he's just allergic to everything.” Neymar says nonchalantly. “He’s been sneezing since we got here.”

 

“Well.” Marc-André the Hot Florist suppresses a smile. “I’m sorry. I have some tissues in the back, though. Would you like me to get them for you?”

 

Rafa blinks as if unsure this beautiful boy is addressing him directly. Marc-André just nods. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Rafa watches him go and then turns to Neymar. The latter smirks.

 

“See, I told you it’d be worthwhile.” He nudges him.

 

“You _never_ said that.”

 

“I did just now.” Neymar looks so pleased. “He’s pretty.”

 

Rafa huffs. Marc comes back with a pack of tissues in hand.

 

“For you.” He hands it over to Rafa. “For your troubles. Oh, and,” He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out something that looks like candy. “This is crystallized ginger. It’ll clear up your sinuses.”

 

He takes the tissues and the ginger slowly, bashfully, because what kind of God-level customer service had he just stumbled upon?

 

“His name is Rafa, by the way,” Neymar says amusedly. “And I’m Neymar. And we’ll take those roses.”

 

Marc smiles. “Marc-André. Let’s go, I’ll ring you up.”

 

* * *

 

The next time Rafa stops by the florist is because his grandmother is coming to stay with him for a week and the woman _loves_ flowers. He clutches his sinus medication tightly before opening the door and tries to make the breath he’d been holding since he got out of the car last. The first thing he sees is Marc-André the Hot Florist up on a step stool rearranging shelves.

 

Rafa clears his throat. “Um, hi.”

 

 _No,_ he doesn’t really _need_ assistance. He knows his grandmother likes any and all flowers, so he really could’ve just grabbed a bouquet of something and bolted. It would've spared him some nasal spray. But _noooo._ He just _has_ to petition the attention of a guy who probably doesn't even remember his name.

 

“Oh, sorry!” Marc-André looks down at him before stepping off the stool and brushing his hands off on his pants. “How may I help you?”

 

Of course he doesn't remember him. He sees so many people a day. It makes sense.

 

“I’m looking to buy some flowers for my grandmother.” Rafa straightens his posture. “I’ll take the nicest bouquet you’ve got.”

 

“No yellow roses this time, then?” Marc-André smirks teasingly. “Follow me.”

 

Rafa blinks, but complies nonetheless. He _remembered._ Of course, that means nothing. The guy was just really good with customers and like to put names to faces. That’s it. He sniffles.

 

“So did you enjoy those roses?” Marc-André asks before stopping in front of a section of lilies.

 

“Huh?” Rafa cocks his head. God, his voice already sounds nasally.

 

“The roses you and your friend came here for last?”

 

“Oh.” He laughs a bit because the notion of someone giving _him_ flowers is ridiculous. “Those weren't for me. No clue who Ney bought those for.”

 

“Ah. Thought so, it’d be kinda tasteless to gift someone something they’ve already seen.”

 

“No, that's totally something he’d do.”

 

Marc-André laughs at that. He has a nice smile, a nice laugh. Rafa is whipped and he barely _knows_ him.

 

“Anyways, does your grandmother like lilies?” The other man asks, picking up a bouquet. “We just got these.”

 

Rafa shrugs. “I guess? She likes gardening and all that, so I’m sure she’ll be fine with anything I get her.”

 

“We have pots and bulbs, too. That way she can grow her own because these,” Marc-André gently runs his finger over a petal. “Wilt in a week or so.”

 

“Sure.” Rafa’s nose itches, and holds up a finger. “Hold on.”

 

Then proceeds the sneezing fit. He sniffles again, reaching for his pack of tissue. Marc-André raises a brow.

 

“You’re a good grandson. Would you like the potted lilies?”

 

He nods weakly, feeling another sneeze come on. He then, much to his dismay, realizes Marc-André has only seen him in this disgusting, snotty state. Dammit. Why did he have to work in a damn flower shop? Rafa wipes at his watering eyes as Marc-André checks the lilies out at the register.

 

“You know,” the blond muses as fills a pot that looks more like a vase with rich dirt. “In China, these day lilies are a symbol of motherhood. Kind of appropriate, don’t you think?”

 

Rafa blinks. “Is it part of the job knowing all this flower stuff?”

 

“Mhmm.” He affirms. “Even if most people don't know the symbolism, it helps me pick something out.” He looks up at him curiously. “So what do you do?”

 

“What do _I_ do?” Rafa asks as if he's still surprised Marc-André would even speak to him.

 

“Yeah, like your job?”

 

“Oh.” His face grows hot. “Right. Ney and I coach kids in football.”

 

Marc-André smiles. “Really? You’re a footballer, huh?”

 

“Nooooooo, I’m just a guy that loves the beautiful game.”

 

“That makes two of us. Oh, come on, though, you have to know something if you coach.”

 

“Yeah, little kids.”

 

“Still. I used to play keeper,” Marc-André ties a white ribbon around the vase. “Back in Germany. I liked throwing myself on the ground for some reason.”

 

While he perfects his bow, Rafa watches his agile fingers. Is there anything about this guy that isn't perfect? Marc-André finally comes around the side of the register and hands the flowers off to Rafa with a smile.

 

“All set.” He affirms. “I suppose this is the last time you’ll be back?”

 

Rafa clears his throat and pulls out a fresh tissue, accepting the flowers while dabbing at his stinging eyes. “I like suffering too much.”

**Author's Note:**

> i love validation


End file.
